


Estrus

by aeber



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: (a lot of) fluff, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Heavy Petting, I have no explanations just take this, M/M, catboy robin y'all, he's also in heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 17:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18970126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeber/pseuds/aeber
Summary: Chrom isn't sure what to make of his tactician suddenly growing an extra set of ears and a tail. He's also definitely not harboring the worst schoolboy crush on him either.(exactly what the tags say it is)





	Estrus

**Author's Note:**

> so i realized that there has never been a catboy chrobin smutfic and i'm here to rectify that
> 
> oh who am i kidding i'm exposing myself

It all started with Tharja’s accident, is what Chrom tells himself over and over again as he watches Robin scurry around the mess hall clutching his hood in a desperate attempt to flatten the two bumps in his cowl. Underneath the thick coat hides another secret that has been fairly well-concealed within the camp, and Chrom knows because he definitely hasn’t been eyeing his admittedly, rather cute tactician at every given chance.

 

Over the few days it’s become an unspoken rule not to talk about Robin’s temporary… inconvenience regardless of his presence. Nobody mentions how he’s developed a healthy appetite for raw fish, nor does anyone mention the way his eyes shine in the dark, pupils blown to accommodate the thin, watery moonlight that drapes over camp during nighttime. Little mannerisms here and there, tendencies to slink into the kitchens unnoticed, staring intently at rustles among bushes when he thinks nobody is watching. Really, the only good thing that seemed to come out of it is how he’s taken to actually sleeping at night instead of strategizing into the morning.

 

Try as he might, it has to be the spellcaster that undoes the hex, and Tharja seems to be enjoying her time watching Robin squirm. If not for the momentary spiel of peace, Chrom would have had her put under close guard till she found a cure to his condition. He’s half-sure she knows how to reverse the curse, but again, he’s too afraid of her creepy antics to directly ask.

 

The initial shock is hard to forget. Robin had wandered out of his tent, still groggy with sleep, towards the patch of hard dirt Chrom was performing his morning routine on and yawned a brief ‘morning’ before heading towards the washbasins. Just like any morning, except that there were two soft white tips atop his dishevelled hair and a fluffy length of tail was showing beneath his loose shirt.

 

He’d been too flustered to notice Chrom’s embarrassing blush when he pointed it out, to Chrom’s immense relief. There was a commotion afterwards, followed with Robin ducking back into his tent to grab his coat. His feline ears were never seen again, except when he was in the baths, or discussing war tactics with Chrom.

 

Speaking of which. He’s sat at Robin’s desk, the map of Plegia rolled up in favour of a makeshift chess set, arm draped over Robin’s in an attempt to place his queen over the board. Robin gently pushes him aside to knock yet another of his piece off the desk.

 

His ears twitch with amusement as he places the knight next to the array of crudely sculpted pieces. “You haven’t been concentrating at all.”

 

Chrom tries his best not to fixate on the stray tuft of fur snagged in the white of his hair. “That’s because you’re too good.”

 

“You’re usually better than this.” He plucks Chrom’s queen off the board with a faint smile, then looks up seriously. “Was it something I said?”

 

“No, I was just thinking.”

 

“About?”

 

He nods at the tail laid across Robin’s lap, gesturing vaguely. “You know.”

 

Robin’s ears flatten and Chrom quickly rushes to correct himself.

 

“It’s not that. There’s a lot of cats in Ylisse but, well, in short, they all hate me. Never got the chance to… interact with one up close.”

 

“Here’s your chance, then.”

 

His heart nearly jumps out of his throat. “Can I?”

 

“I don’t see the problem.” He cocks his head and gives him a wry smile. “I won’t bite. Yet.”

 

Robin licks his lips in anticipation, flicking his ears as he shifts and scoots over for better reach. His eyes are dilated in the dim lamplight, lips pulled into a slight grin as if in playful challenge.

 

Chrom can feel his pulse thudding wildly in his chest. They’re close, the gap between them nearly nonexistent. He notices how Robin’s shirt is loose, too loose around him, and he tears his eyes away from the dip of his collarbones to the gentle slope of his shoulders. There are scars, bruised and new, littered across his arm from the skirmishes Chrom had dragged him through. He wants to brush his lips across each faded wound. He shouldn’t.

 

He hesitates before reaching out. Warily, he settles his hand atop his head to card his fingers through his hair, running them through the white fluff as he slides his thumb along the shell of his ears. It’s soft. Warm. He’s scratching the back of his ears absentmindedly when he feels Robin sigh beneath him, trembling.

 

Robin is purring. He’s nuzzling into the palm of Chrom’s hand, throat rumbling contently as he butts his head up further into his ministrations. Eyes closed, he leans forward to rub himself against the side of Chrom’s arm, grazing his cheek on his bare skin. It’s just the hex, Chrom thinks, unwilling to get out of the dizzying heat radiating from Robin’s touch. He slides his palm unconsciously down his forehead to swipe at his bangs.

 

It’s hot. His skin is feverish, lacking in perspiration. It’s a wonder how he’s still fully conscious.

 

“You’re burning up,” he mumbles. Robin doesn’t respond and instead hums, purring loudly. Chrom nudges him again. “Hey. Robin.”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“You have a fever. I’m going to call Lissa.”

 

“No,” he yawns, “I’m not sick.”

 

When he opens his eyes again, the pupils are fully blown, irises barely visible. He seems reluctant to let the petting go, yet he shakes his head, shrugging.

 

“At least get some medicine.”

 

“It’s- a cat thing. It’ll go away in the morning.” He stands on his feet, unsteady. “I think.”

 

He stumbles. Chrom catches him by the wrist mid-fall and Robin flinches at contact, inhaling sharply. The sheer sensation of skin on skin has him reeling in his hypersensitivity towards his surroundings, Chrom’s scent suddenly picked out stark from the muted smell of books and parchment.

 

“Are you sure?” His voice. He wants—

 

“I’m sure,” he finds himself saying. “Sorry for worrying you.”

 

Chrom’s grip tightens. He doesn’t know why. “If there’s any way I can be of assistance, I’d be glad to help.”

 

A pregnant silence hangs between them, tense like a bubble ready to burst. Robin lifts his gaze, slowly, ears drawn back as he smooths Chrom’s hand over the rough wood.

 

“In that case,” he carefully doles out, word by word, “I’d like to try something.”

 

He has to stand on his toes, head tilted to the side, to press his lips against Chrom’s chapped ones. The moment is as fleeting as the shiver that runs down his spine. The leaden halting of time breaks as the ball of his heels return to the ground. He can feel the flush creeping up his limbs.

 

From what he can tell, Chrom is still frozen in dull shock. He can’t bring himself to make eye contact.

 

“…I suppose that didn’t work.” He wipes his lips with his fingers and blinks expectantly. “I’d thought external contact in the erogenous areas would do something about it.”

 

‘Didn’t work’ is an understatement, he laments internally. The coil of heat in his groin is pooling into his thoughts. He wants nothing but to bask in that familiar scent, to rid himself of the itchy fabric that’s been digging into his skin.

 

“Robin,” Chrom finally says. “Did you mean that?”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“What I mean is, how much of it is your…” he pauses, searching for any last bit of eloquence he can retain, “-heat?”

 

He’s figured it out, huh.

 

“Not a lot,” he confesses brazenly. He might as well go with it. “As much as you’d like.”

 

“Would you mind if I did this, then?”

 

He tastes warm. Like milk, like chocolate, like a sun-kissed rock by the sea. He’s not very experienced, Robin notes to himself, but it’s endearing all the same. His hands roam from cupping his cheek to cradling the curve of his jaw, pinning Robin against the wall in the progress and nibbling his lower lip. He’s attempting to muffle himself by reciprocating with equal, simmering intensity, and it only succeeds in encouraging Chrom to kiss him harder, deeper.

 

His tongue’s gotten rough, like a cat’s, but he doesn’t mind. When they part, the air between them is saturated with unspoken wanting. He can feel Robin shift under him, embarrassment written across his aversive gaze.

 

“Is it okay if I-?”

 

The pink on Robin’s cheeks burns brighter. “I would not be… unwilling.”

 

Chrom slides his mouth down the sensitive crook of Robin’s neck, earning him a shudder and a hitch in breath as he rucks up his shirt for access to the unblemished expanse of his stomach. His fingers skim along his waist and above the cleft of his ass, where he circles the base of his tail with feathering touches until Robin whimpers and struggles against his hold in a desperate plea for friction. He gives no relief despite this, opting to stroke the soft fur as he grazes the pert tip of his nipples with his teeth, the wet bulge in Robin’s breeches pressed against him hard and aching.

 

He’s not in any better condition either. Every hushed moan from his swollen lips makes the throbbing in his crotch pulse with newfound arousal, straining against his trousers as he works Robin to the brink of orgasm. He’s close, he can tell, denied by his grip for support on his back and rutting wantonly into Chrom’s thigh shoved between his legs. His tail is curled around his waist as Chrom rubs the tip between the pads of his fingers, then grinds down his front with a rough jerk and brush of his mouth on the head of his still-clothed cock.

 

He comes without warning, spilling into his breeches and dripping onto his navel with a lewd cry cut short by his own hand clamped over his mouth. Chrom palms him roughly through the electric bliss, unlacing his breeches while he takes the opportunity to bite down on the delicate flesh of Robin’s inner thigh. Robin seizes up at the keen sensation, still riding in the afterglow, and hisses in relief as Chrom finally undresses him swiftly to grasp at his ass.

 

It’s slick, to Chrom’s mild surprise, leaking out in copious amounts as he teases at his entrance with his fingers. A drag of his tongue along the ring of muscle tells him it’s sweet, as well as elicits another indecent moan from above. He’s already hard again, this time giving a full view as Chrom pushes him onto the bed and licks the residue off his hand.

 

Chrom swallows. “Robin—”

 

“You want this.” He spreads his legs further apart, glistening with a mix of his own cum and saliva. His touch is painstakingly light on Chrom’s arousal, ears tilted forward in interest. “ _I_ want this.”

 

He frees Chrom’s cock from its confines, unbuttoning his tunic as he does so and letting them fall onto the floor as he traces his thick girth up to the engorged tip. He’s about to prepare himself when Chrom brushes him aside to murmur.

 

“Keep your hands to yourself.”

 

The first digit offers little to no resistance, sliding in without difficulty as Robin gasps and writhes at the right spot. He opens up easily enough, reduced a panting mess when he eventually gets there, drooling over the sheets and keeling for him to move. His tail is curled around his thigh, trembling and breathless, torso bare to Chrom’s every whim.

 

He buries himself to the hilt at an excruciating pace, staying till Robin adjusts and snaps his hips in frustration, still gripping at the sheets as per command. His ass is deliciously tight around him, velvet walls clenching at every slow thrust, the obscene sound of his moans filling the room at the abuse of his prostrate.

 

He loses himself soon enough, the languid roll of his hips abandoned in favour of shameless debauchery. Holding Robin’s arms above his head, he plunges into him, crushing his lips into a sloppy kiss to feel his sharpened canines along his tongue and groaning into his mouth as Robin frots against him in frantic desperation.

 

“Chrom,” he pants between bouts of incoherency, “I’m going to-!”

 

White splashes across his vision the moment Chrom thrusts into him one last time, spasming in the wake of pleasure sizzling through his veins. He’s filled to the brim, some of it dribbling down his ass as Chrom pulls out and collapses behind him, a hand wrapped firmly around his waist as Robin snuggles up to his chest.

 

The sticky heat between his legs is gone now, replaced with a blooming contentment as Chrom starts combing through his hair drowsily. As Chrom tries to scoop him up to the bathing tents, he paws at him in annoyance and noses under his palm for more scratches.

 

He falls asleep to the rhythm of Chrom’s breathing and the warmth of his embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> and that, my friends, was how lucina was born
> 
>  
> 
> no I'm kidding


End file.
